


Fates and Fools

by izazov



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, brief mention of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor dies. Loki goes back in time to change it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fates and Fools

Loki knows the price of the spell, and he will pay it gladly. Just as he knows it will not come without pain, but he is not ready for the reality of it – the stretch and pull of old, forbidden magic at the very core of him. He doubles over, hands clutching desperately at his chest in a futile attempt of easing the feel of greedy claws tearing his soul to bits.

Sinking to his knees, Loki throws his head back, a scream tearing from his throat. He is dying, the pain almost unbearable, but not as much as the knowledge that he had failed, and Thor-

The world shifts suddenly, and for one moment of undeserved bliss, he feels nothing.

******

The fates are not overly fond of him. That much Loki has known for quite some time. Now he would be willing to wager what little is left of his soul that they are laughing themselves silly at his expense.

Shaking his head, Loki brings his hand to his mouth, his fingers coming off stained with blood. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Loki shuts his eyes momentarily.

Things are not going according to plan. Not that it had been much of a plan to start with. Plan would involve thinking, taking into account all possible variables. Especially something fundamental as this. But Loki hadn’t been thinking, driven by pain and desperation, wanting only to undo that horrible feeling of sticky wetness of Thor’s blood on his hands. To erase the blank, vacant look from clear, blue eyes.

He miscalculated. _Gravely_. Acting like a hundred times a bigger fool than the one he had always accused Thor of being. Perhaps ruining his only chance at fixing the disaster that has yet to come.

He hears the footsteps coming his way, slow and deliberate, but keeps his eyes closed, his mind desperately working in search of a solution, of something that could salvage the situation, dreading to think what will happen if he fails.

Footsteps stop a mere few inches from where he is still sitting on the ground, amidst the rubble and debris of what used to be a brick wall before Loki flew through it. Swallowing, Loki forces his body to calm, even if his heart remains stubborn, keeping its erratic rhythm.

“You should have stayed hidden, Loki,” Thor’s voice comes out flat, empty. “Yet you always tempt the fates, even now. They will not settle for less than your blood this time, you must know it.”

Loki opens his eyes, his gaze travelling slowly from the tips of leather boots, past strong, muscled thighs clad in polished mail, and up the broad chest, stopping when it reaches the face Loki knows almost as his own, every feature familiar to the skin of his fingers, as if branded there by fire.

Loki bites down on his lower lip, drawing blood, just to stop himself from bursting into hysterical laughter. The last time he saw Thor, his face had been covered in so much blood, it had been almost impossible to distinguish his features. But it is the memory of his eyes – warm, tender, and full of love – that feels like a knife twisting inside his heart as he stares at the very same pair of eyes that could not look more different than they do now – hard, resigned, and oh so very tired.

“I am not here out of ill will, Thor,” Loki tries, raising his hands placatingly, but that has the opposite effect of the one he had hoped to gain. Thor’s eyes flash with anger, and before Loki has a chance to react, two strong hands grip him by the lapels of his coat, pulling him up, and he finds himself dangling like a puppet a few inches from the ground.

“ _Not out of ill will?!_ ” Thor repeats, incredulous, tightening his hold on Loki, as he sets him down on the ground. Loki’s breath hitches in his throat, bit it is not fear that steals his breath and makes his heart thundering wildly inside his chest. It is the feel of warmth that emanates from Thor’s body, so close, all Loki has to do is raise his hands and pull him those remaining inches separating their bodies, and…

Clenching his hands, Loki grits his teeth together. He has to _think_. Not act like a love starved boy. There is too much at stake for him not to succeed. But it still cuts at him, the look of anger and hurt in Thor’s eyes, no matter how well deserved it is. It still makes Loki want to erase it with soft words and gentle touches, but this Thor would not allow it. This Thor would not welcome it. It’s the wrong place, and more importantly, wrong time.

“I have long since abandoned hope there is anything but ill will inside your heart,” Thor growls out. Loki winces, even if the words are not meant for _him_ exactly, but the shell of a person whose body he is merely borrowing. Loki cannot recall what particular offense Thor is referring to. There had been many, in the days when he had been driven by flames of rage, hate and pain, consuming him slowly inch by inch. He had wanted nothing more than see the world burn, and Thor on his knees, in the middle of its ruin. “You have chosen your fate, Loki, and I wash my hands of it. I will not advocate your death, but I will offer no words in your defense.”

Loki’s eyes widen. _Death?_ That complicates things considerably. He starts to struggle in earnest against Thor’s hold, but – without his magic – it is as if trying to move a mountain with his bare hands.

Thor grimaces, something like distaste crossing his features. Loki knows what is coming, but he is too weak to do anything to stop it. Thor’s hand moves with blinding speed, and Loki barely has time to force out, “Thor, _no_ ,” before everything goes dark.

******

He is back in the familiar glass cage. Only this time, he is not there of his own volition.

He presses his hand against the reinforced glass, pulling it quickly when a jolt of something travels through his fingers, spreading across his entire body. Loki frowns, pain dissipating quickly, but he suspects the first jolt of pain is merely a warning. If he tries to break out, the pain will undoubtedly grow exponentially with his efforts. But that is a moot point since his magic is drained, the spell he’d cast to send himself back to the past left him hollowed out. Helpless. Stuck in this cage, at the mercy of mortals who despise him, while his time is slowly ticking away.

Shutting his eyes, Loki tries his best to gather the loose treads of his foolish plan, but no matter how hard he looks, he cannot see the way out of it, desperation rising in his chest, almost suffocating him with its intensity.

“I see you’re familiarizing yourself with the new addition to your current residence,” Loki’s eyes fly open, more annoyed with himself for not sensing he is being watched than actually startled by the vaguely familiar voice. Voice belonging to the black man, standing with his hands behind his back on the other side of Loki’s cage, regarding him with calculating look in his one eye. “We’ve had to employ the help of an acquaintance after your last visit. All to ensure that this time it would not be as brief as the last one.”

Images of himself laughing through chaos of explosions and fire, flash inside his mind, a man on his knees before him, his screams echoing even louder than the explosions. He forces his face to relax into a neutral expression, hoping it will be enough to hide his rising panic. He is close to being powerless, in a way he had not been in a long time, and this man is not someone to be taken lightly, mortal or not. “Director,” Loki says, his lips forming a pleasant smile. “I do appreciate the interest you have in me, but we both know there is not a cage strong enough to hold me for long.”

Fury’s lips slowly stretch into a smile that makes a shiver of dread run down Loki’s spine, Loki’s own smile almost faltering. “Not long, I’ll give you that, you’re far too slippery son of a bitch,” Fury says, smug and business like in equal measure. “Only long enough.”

With a curt nod, Fury turns on his heel, his coat billowing behind him as he stalks out of the room. Loki doesn’t move, his smile slowly fading from his face, as real, naked fear starts to spread through him like wildfire.

******

As far as torture techniques go, the good agents of SHIELD have much to learn. The pain is only mildly annoying, and the shock of electricity surging through his body tears only gasps from his lips.

The chemicals, though. They are the real pain. And where the danger lies. Danger of him letting the truth slip from his lips, forever endangering the future. His very arrival could have serious consequences for the future. That is something Loki had been aware of even when he’d cast the spell, half-crazed with grief. But the risk paled in comparison to keeping Thor alive.

This though, could ruin everything, erase the future he desperately wants to preserve. Especially now, with the vivid evidence of how broken and wretched his past truly had been. So he keeps straining against the bonds keeping him bound to a metal slab, biting his lip until his mouth is filled with his own blood to keep himself from answering the string of questions coming from Nick Fury. But he keeps getting weaker, his head drowsy and light. His thoughts are progressively becoming sluggish, until he cannot recall why it is such a bad idea to answer the questions he is being bombarded with.

“Come now, Loki,” Fury says, almost kindly. Loki can barely focus on his face, his eyelids feeling like they weigh a ton, and he is tired, so very tired. “We both know you’re not the strong and silent type. So why don’t you simply tell us what we need to know, and this will all be over?”

Loki wants it to end, he wants to close his eyes and dream, dream of warmth and blue eyes, and happiness he’d been allowed to have, only for it to be torn out of his hands.

Shutting his eyes, Loki gives up.

“I’m not… Loki… I need to warn,” he starts, his voice hoarse and weak, but never gets the chance to finish his confession.

There’s a loud bang of doors being forcefully wrenched open, followed by clatter of metal hitting the floor. And voices raised in confusion and anger.

“What the…?”

“You are not allowed here, Thor.” 

“I will have to ask you to desist, sir.” 

“I will not stand for this, Fury. Loki may be beyond mercy, but he is of Asgard, and I will not stand idly by as you…”

The words turn to a buzzing noise inside Loki’s head, but they don’t even matter. What matters is that he recognizes the sound of the loudest one, the one carrying the righteous fury of the god whom it belongs.

_Thor._

Forcing his eyes to open, Loki smiles, pouring all of him into it, and the last thing he sees before all fades to black, is the look of shock and dismay on Thor’s face leaning over him.

******

Loki is back in his cage.

He is half lying, half sitting on the ground, his head leaning against the metal bench which is the only courtesy his cage has to offer. He keeps his eyes shut, partly because his head is still spinning from the leftover chemicals coursing through his bloodstream, making him nauseous. But mostly, he is remembering. Or dreaming. He cares not, really. He is back in Asgard, and the grass is soft and cold underneath his naked back, in perfect contrast to almost burning heat of the body above his, driving into him in long, languid thrusts, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy, only to leave him hanging there.

“What has happened to you?”

The voice jolts him out of his thoughts, a part of Loki’s drugged brain making a note of this being the first time Thor had been able to sneak up on him. Loki almost groans at the interruption. Trust Thor to avoid him when he needs to see him, and to make himself present a few moments too early.

“You truly do possess the worst timing known to man,” Loki sighs, opening his eyes, his gaze, as if drawn by irresistible force, turning to Thor.

Thor looks, for the lack of a better expression, like hell. His face is paler than usual, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more, and the look in his eyes could be best described as haunted.

Loki swallows against the bile gathered in his throat, the urge to vomit almost unbearable. Thor is obviously miserable, looking as if his skin is too small to hold all of him in, and Loki doesn’t have to wonder who holds the blame for it.

“Just once in your life, Loki, do as you are told, and answer my question,” Thor demands, more desperate than angry, and it is more than Loki can stand in this moment.

Shutting his eyes, Loki chuckles darkly. “Chemicals, mostly,” he says, and it so easy to slip in the role of the villain he is currently portraying. It is probably the worst thing he could do right now, but he is aching all over, his mind, soul and heart one open, bleeding wound, and he needs something to put between himself and Thor before he breaks, and wrecks everything. And words have always been his best shield. And a weapon. “A fair deal of torture, as well, but Midgardians are mere amateurs when compared to Asgard’s interrogatory technicians.”

Thor stays silent, and Loki can actually see him – his eyes narrowing, hands clenching into fists, as anger burns hot in his eyes – without even opening his eyes.

“Why must you always be so damnably infuriating?!” Thor finally breaks, his voice a heady mixture of anger and frustration, and Loki has to clench his jaw to stop the foolish words of love and pleas for forgiveness from leaving his lips. “And I thought, for a moment, that perhaps you have made a ch-”

The torrent of words stops, dissolving into a mirthless chuckle. “You were right, Loki,” Thor says, suddenly resigned, and it is the tone, not the words that make Loki open his eyes. “I truly am I fool.”

“No, you are not,” Loki says, nothing but earnest conviction lacing his tone, the words torn from him solely on the account of misery in Thor’s eyes. It is a reflex, born out of years they have spent together, even if he has no claim on this man. Not yet. Whether he could have stopped the words or not, hardly matters now, what matters is that it was the wrong thing to say. And he is soon proved right.

Thor’s eyes widen, only to narrow to slits, as he takes two steps, stopping a mere few inches from Loki, who has to incline his head so he could look Thor directly in the face. And the absolute fury displayed there. “What kind of a twisted game are you playing now, Loki?” He snarls, and if he had any strength left in him, Loki would seriously consider being afraid of Thor. As it is, he settles for mildly concerned, mostly thanks to the Midgardian chemistry. “What depraved pleasure do you seek to gain by playing the role of someone who no longer exist?”

Tired of twisting his neck so he could look at Thor, Loki pulls himself into an upright position, but when he tries to stand up, his knees buckle, almost sending him down on his knees. Thor’s hand moves fast, maybe even faster than Thor’s will, grabbing Loki by the elbow, and steadying him.

They stand like that one long moment, Thor alternately glaring at his offending hand and Loki, his fingers still wrapped tightly around Loki’s elbow, but the grip is not meant to harm, but to reassure. In one moment of madness, fueled by desperation and the overwhelming sense of having Thor so near, Loki lifts his hand, his fingers fitting themselves with the side of Thor’s face. 

“Thor,” he whispers, and it is so easy for him to get lost in the moment, time blurring, past and future merging, entire universe narrowing down to the feel of warmth and life under his fingers.

Thor’s eyes widen in dismay, and he is shocked into stillness long enough for Loki’s fingers to come to rest on the pulse point in his neck, now throbbing wildly. It doesn’t last long, though. With a chocked sound, Thor backs away, letting go of Loki as if burned, Thor’s eyes a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Surprisingly, hurt is what comes out the winner. Not anger.

“This is beyond even your twisted mind, Loki,” Thor breathes out, his words coming out broken and strained, each another dagger aimed at Loki’s heart, and Thor doesn’t even know it. “Spilling my blood does not sate you anymore? Have you run out of hate and malice, so you turn to false sentiment to wound me?” Breathing heavily, Thor keeps his hands tightly clenched by his sides, his accusing eyes fixed firmly on Loki’s own. “Why so much hate, Loki? All I am guilty of is holding you dear to my heart, and all you seem to want is to rip it apart.”

It would be so easy to break now, and tell the truth, no matter how unbelievable it would sound. So easy, Loki even opens his mouth, taking a step toward Thor, before he remembers the dangers, stopping abruptly. Drawing on every ounce of will and self-control he possesses, Loki forces every foolish, sentimental desire out of his mind, leaving only the reason why had he come to this forsaken point in time in the first place. 

“Thor, I know this will be difficult to believe, but I mean you no harm. In fact-” Loki starts, keeping his voice carefully calm. He never finishes the sentence, as Thor’s eyes flash with fury, and, with a growl, he lunges after Loki, and only thing Loki has time for, before strong fingers close around his throat, is to widen his eyes in surprise.

He’d forgotten how strong Thor really is, just how formidable is the power thrumming underneath his skin, for so long having received only tenderness from the hands that wield one of the most powerful weapons in all the Nine Realms. But with Thor’s hand wrapped around his throat, cutting off his words, and, slowly, his breath, the reality of how effortless it would be for Thor to crush his windpipe, has him truly afraid of Thor for the first time in centuries.

“Hold your poisonous tongue, you wretch,” Thor snarls, his teeth bared. Loki wraps both his hands around Thor’s wrist, everything fleeing his mind but the primal need to struggle for life. But it is futile fight, Thor’s grip on him is iron strong, merciless. Loki has never possessed the physical strength that could match Thor’s, let alone now, still reeling from his interrogation. It is a ridiculous way to die, he thinks, as his vision blurs, his lungs burning with the lack of oxygen, and somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Loki can recognize the bitter irony of having Thor finally be done with him when he offers nothing but love. “I am tired of your lies and madness, Loki. Tired of your despicable deeds, and most of all, I am tired of you taking pleasure in playing with my mind and heart. And the only reason I will not silence your lies forever, is the love Mother has always held for you.”

With one last look of barely held distaste, Thor releases his hold on Loki’s throat, who, without the support from Thor’s hand, crumples on the ground, massaging his neck as his lungs draw breath in greedy gulps, his eyes following Thor’s retreating back with a rising sense of panic.

His time here is limited, the sands of it slowly seeping through his fingers, and he is as far from reaching Thor as he could possibly be.

******

Loki acquaints himself with despair thoroughly in the next few days of his capture.

The first day, he is left alone in his cage, even if he is more than aware of cameras hidden through ought his cage, enabling Fury and countless others to watch his every move. Not that there is much to be seen. He sits on the floor, his back leaning against the metal bench, his eyes squeezed shut. And he is remembering. Remembering that faithful day when a mistake from the past had cost Thor his life.

A vengeance is best served cold, they say. And it does not get colder than a poisoned cup, served centuries after the offense had been commited. Only days separate him from that moment, and yet, the images of it are disconnected in Loki’s mind, existing only in glimpses and shadowy shapes. All colored red. Even now, if he looks too hard, he can see red staining his fingers, wet, sticky and wrong.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Loki forces the images from his mind. They do him no good, even if they remind him what is at stake if he fails here. Thor would be forever lost to him. Now more than ever. If there ever had been a slight glimmer of chance for his redemption, and a way to enter Valhalla’s golden halls, he had forfeited it by casting the spell that brought him here.

And that is something Thor will never know. Something he must not know. No matter how little Loki cares for his tattered soul, Thor would never forgive him, and he would even feel responsible for Loki’s choice. Like it had been a choice at all. If the spell asked for blood of the innocent, Loki would become the monster again without a second thought, sacrificing something that holds barely no value, seems like a bargain. Thor would never consider it. He would fight the armies of Hel for Loki’s soul, offering his blood and life, but never the lives of the innocent. But that had always been the same between them, Loki moving in shadows, and Thor always shining brighter than the sun.

Now there is no sun to be seen, and Loki feels cold, the kind that not even his Jotunn roots can alleviate, seeping into his very core. And he is wasting his only chance at getting it back, lost, desperate and helpless inside a cage that has never before been able to hold him.

At times, Loki can almost imagine he could hear the fates’ laughter if he listened close enough.

******

“I want to see Thor.”

Fury merely smirks at him, unimpressed. “I also want many things. One of them being never seeing your skinny, alien ass on my planet. But here you are.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Fury raises his eyebrow pointedly. “Enjoying your stay this time? Or has the _real power_ run out of juice? Because, that would make my life a whole lot easier. As for yours…”

Fury trails off, his smirk turning predatory, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air between them. Loki has not really felt the need for inflicting pain on anyone for a long time. With the exception of Thor’s killer, whose fate had been merciful, as Loki could only tear him to pieces once. But he feels it now, the itch in his fingers to wrap around the fragile, mortal flesh of Fury neck, and squeeze, slowly, enjoying every second of his struggle for air, watching the smug expression on his face turn to panic and fear, as he realizes his struggle is in vain.

Loki cuts off that train of thought, futile and distracting, instead slipping into a role Fury expects of him. “It would hardly be courteous of me if I left your company after all the trouble you have gone through for the sake of keeping me here,” Loki says, calm and unafraid, but the smug expression doesn’t leave Fury’s face. He must doubt it, though. Loki’s behavior back then had been, to say the least, erratic. His plans prone to change from one moment to the other, his moods mercurial. It would not be so strange for him to allow himself to get captured for some nefarious purpose. Folding his hands behind his back, Loki allows himself a small smile. “And would you be so kind as to share the name of your acquaintance. His work is not without some merit.”

“Hell, no,” Fury says, the smug mask morphing into a grimace of distaste. “And don’t think for a moment I’ll buy into your bullshit. You are stuck here, for some reason, and all I have to do is wait, to get the information I need from you. Then, not even the big brother will be able to save your ass. Not that he seems all that eager to even try. I guess you have finally pissed him off enough to make him come to his senses.” With a shark-like grin, Fury turns to go, adding over his shoulder. “Enjoy your stay, Loki, it’s going to be long and unpleasant.”

Loki snaps, his vision turning red. Before he can stop himself, he releases a furious snarl, his fist colliding with the glass of his cage. The pain is instant, small sparks of fire licking at his nerve-endings, sending him down on his knees.

It takes his body quite some time to stop shuddering uncontrollably, and when his vision clears, he frowns at the broken, bloody mess he’s made of his right hand. The glass remains intact, though, only a smear of red staining the otherwise pristine surface.

Gazing up, Loki straightens his shoulders in defiance, but he is well aware how pathetic sight he must be presenting to anyone currently watching.

******

“You should know that Geneva Convention does not extend to extraterrestrial megalomaniacs with daddy issues,” Fury’s words are blank, but Loki’s far too god at this game not to be able to detect a note of worry underneath. “I have no idea what you mean to accomplish by your little hunger strike, but you are more fucked up in the head than I have previously believed, if you think anyone will buy your martyr act.”

Five days have passed since his breakdown in the light of Fury’s words, and in that time Loki hasn’t said or even moved from his lying position on the floor of his cage. Not counting the good Director’s second attempt at prying the information out of him. No Thor to stop it this time, it lasted longer, ending with him spitting blood, and passing out without revealing anything.

Inaction is hardly what he would normally choose, but in the current circumstances, it is his only choice. And now it is time for the next step.

Loki opens his eyes, lacking his usual grace as he rises to his feet. He doesn’t bother with putting on the show for Fury, lacking the patience for their usual useless banter. The spell is nearing its end, he knows it by the slow stirring of magic inside, and two days are separating Thor from making the first step down a path that ends in his death.

Casually glancing toward the food his captors have been regularly supplying him with, left untouched on the plastic tray near the sliding door of his cage, Loki fixes Fury with a blank look. “I could easily live without the comfort of food for a month of your time,” Loki says evenly. Fury frowns at this, for the first time since his capture, Loki gaining the upper hand in their talks. “There is no need to worry over me perishing while under your custody, Director. Not for a while, at least.” He adds as an afterthought.

Fury narrows his eyes in suspicion, regarding Loki for a few moments of strained silence. Finally, he gives up. “You’re playing us, I know it,” he says, but there is a note that resembles resignation underneath the cold disdain, and Loki almost smiles in triumph. “Why the act? What do you want?”

“To give you all the information you need to bring down at least three names from your most wanted list,” Loki says simply.

“And you would do it now, when you kept your mouth shut during your interrogation? Out of the goodness of your heart? Just like that?” Fury asks, not even bothering to hide the disbelief in his voice.

Loki allows himself a small smile, taking a step closer to the glass. “Not really, no. I do have one request.”

Fury studies his face one long moment, releasing a deep breath as realization dawns on his face. “Thor.” He says, and it is not a question, but a statement, heavy with something Loki would call guilt, if it came from anyone else. And Loki’s smile widens.

“Yes, _Thor_.”

******

“You demanded my presence, Loki, and here I am,” Thor says, and Loki cannot help but frown at the complete lack of any emotion on Thor’s face. He does not recall Thor ever being able to mask his emotions, not even when he had not been an impostor inside his own body in the current timeline, and that thought makes him worry. This quest could easily undo everything he is fighting to save, and he seems to be threading a dangerous path of changing the future events by keeping his silence equally as he is with telling the truth. “Now start talking.”

If he could, Loki would very much like to stop being so hopelessly in love with his infuriating not-brother for the duration of an hour. This could very well be the most difficult task he has ever accomplished, finding the right amount of truth and omission to present to Thor, who, presently, has little reason to trust Loki’s words. And, yet, his thoughts keep straying down the path that leads nowhere, for this Thor is not his to touch and hold close. And if Loki makes the littlest of missteps now, Thor could easily never be his.

And that is a sobering thought, forcing Loki’s emotions under control.

Sighing, Loki raises an eyebrow at Thor’s rigid posture by the door. “You need not to stand so far back, Thor, I could not bite even if I wanted to,” Loki says, rising his manacled arms, the chain – spelled by strong magic, making Loki quite interested in the identity of Fury’s pet sorcerer – connected to a solid, metal ring, welded onto the flat surface of the metal desk in front of him.

The corner of Thor’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. “Recent years have gifted me with enough scars to teach me never to underestimate you, Loki,” Thor says, still in that damnable impassive tone that suits him ill, making Loki feel distinctly uncomfortable. “You are many things, but never helpless or unarmed. Not while you can still speak.”

Loki winces inwardly, the accusation not unexpected, or unwarranted, but it derails his goal, setting the exact mood for this conversation Loki needs to avoid.

His lips forming a shadow of a smile, Loki takes a look of the room they are in. Empty, save for the table and two metal chairs, one of which Loki is occupying. There are no windows in this room, walls and the doors made of, Loki suspects, reinforced steel. Not really a room anyone would want to be in.

“I also demanded privacy,” Loki states. If he had his magic fully back, it would not present an issue. But with it still recovering slowly, he is left to rely on other methods. He wonders, briefly, how easier this all would have gone if the spell had not reduced him to something that is hardly better than a pathetic mortal, weak and helpless, using only the illusion of his former self to keep his captors from tearing him apart. “Is this room free of Fury’s prying eyes?”

“According to him, yes.”

Loki grimaces, his doubts not put to rest by Thor’s answer, but insisting would probably only anger Thor, and, considering the last time it happened, Loki should mind his words carefully.

Taking a deep breath, Loki gathers his strength. “Do you believe me, Thor?” He asks, his eyes fixed greedily on Thor’s face, even though he knows the answer.

A laugh spills from Thor’s lips, sharp, bitter, disbelieving. “Believe you? I believe only one thing about you, and that is that you cannot be trusted,” the words come out bitter and accusing, but the cold, hard stare in Thor’s eyes hurts more. “But I have given my word to Fury, no matter how little faith I hold in you offering the truth of your own volition. Even if I can imagine you being twisted enough to continue with your current machinations against your allies.”

“Oh, _that_ ,” Loki says, and the smile that quirks his lips upward is a reflex, even if a part of him cannot help but wonder will his next words also be his last. “I lied about that. I needed to speak with you. In a way, you forced my hand.”

The change in Thor’s expression is like watching a building crumbling in on itself, the careful mask of indifference slipping into frustrated disbelief, and before it could turn to anger, Loki says the words he’d sacrificed his soul for Thor to hear.

“You are to leave for Asgard tomorrow. Do not.”

Thor takes a step toward Loki, who, in turn, rises from the chair, his movement constricted by the length of the chain.

“What… How…” suspicion, dismay, anger, and oh so many other emotions, are warring with each other on Thor’s face, as he stands still, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides, and Loki wonders how much of Thor’s self-restrain comes from shock. “What trickery is this? How could you know of it? I have not shared the news with anyone.”

Loki grimaces, his eyes warily following the tense line of Thor’s shoulders, up to his narrowed blue eyes. “I cannot say,” he sighs, and takes a step back, his restraints clinking in protest, as Thor matches it with his own step forward. And, surprisingly, stops before reaching Loki, his chest heaving and eyes blazing with barely held need for violence. Loki sucks in a breath, his heart beating wildly in his chest, more desperate than frightened, as he tries again, his words coming out pleading. “But, please, do as I bid you. Offer an apology, or lie… just… do not go.”

The silence that follows is interrupted only by Thor’s heavy breaths as he visibly fights for control, and Loki feels his hopes slipping. There is nothing but anger in Thor’s eyes. He could try telling the truth, and risk everything, but it would not change the simple fact that Thor does not believe him. Will not heed his advice, forcing Loki to go back to the future where there is nothing – _no one_ – waiting him, only memories of happiness, and his failure.

Regaining some semblance of control, Thor squares Loki with a hard, unforgiving stare. “I know not how you know of this, or what reason you have for staging this charade, but heed my advice, Loki, for the love I once felt for you, do not cross my sight in the future. I share not the thirst you have for my blood, but I will not have mercy when next we meet.”

Loki’s knees almost buckle under him, his mind refusing to form thoughts, paralyzed with panic and helplessness, as he stares at Thor’s retreating back, a realization that this will be the last time he sees Thor alive, cutting at him like a knife.

“Stop, Thor… listen to me… you don’t know…” Loki tries to follow, but he cannot make more than three steps, the manacles cutting into his wrists, as the chain strains under Loki’s wild struggle to set himself free. He is reduced to pure instincts, his mind failing him completely. As he struggles with the chain, he is aware only of desperate need to clutch at Thor, and bodily force him to stop his retreating steps, but he cannot even set himself free of his restraints, let alone stop Thor. Thor is already by the door, when a cry tears itself from Loki’s lips. “You will _die_ , you bastrad!”

Thor stops abruptly, and for one fleeting moment, Loki feels almost hopeful, but his hope is short-lived, withering under the sound of mirthless laughter coming from Thor. “I remember the time when it had been natural to listen to your lies but hear the truth, Loki. When I wanted to believe you. That time had passed.” Turning slowly, as if this is the last thing he wants, but is powerless against it, Thor looks at him. It is a sad, wistful look, Thor’s anger draining from his eyes. “Maybe I am not as big a fool as you always accused me of being. Or you are not as good a liar as you used to be.”

The sound of the world shattering all around him is remarkably similar to the hiss of hydraulic, signaling the door opening. Thor steps out of the room without another backward glance, leaving Loki standing deathly still, staring helplessly at the closed door, as his entire future slowly slips from his grasp.

******

Is it mercy, or just a calm before the storm, Loki cannot tell, but he feels nothing.

He knows he should, his mind not that far gone, but here he is, standing like a statue in a glass cage, with the shards of his future scattered all around him, and he is numb. Had been numb when the guards dragged him out of the metal room. Only stared with blank eyes at the man as Fury yelled and raged and promised pain and retribution.

A distant part of his mind weakly tries to coerce him into some form of action, but what could he do but turn himself into a screaming, writhing mess on the floor, if he attempts to use what little magic he has in an attempt to break free. And the future holds no hope for him. Even if he could find and eradicate everyone behind Thor’s assassination, he had gambled away his only chance by choosing this option.

So he does nothing, and feels nothing, and when the spell ends and he returns to his own time and body, he will also have nothing.

Loki is still standing frozen on the spot, staring at nothing, when the door leading to the room where his cage is located opens, and a massive figure storms inside, stalking with deadly intent toward his cage. And Loki.

Is it the shock of seeing Thor again, or the numbness that still has a firm grip on his senses, but Loki makes no move to react in any way, not even when he feels the crackle of strong, forbidden magic entering the room on Thor’s footsteps.

He merely blinks at Thor’s darkened expression, and an almost pained growl that comes out of Thor’s mouth, “Damn you for forcing my hand, Loki. And damn me for still being a fool,” before he grasps Loki by the hand, and clasps a silver circlet around his wrist, its twin gleaming blue on Thor’s own wrist.

Loki’s eyes widen is shock at the recognition, “Thor, what have you…” his breathless words cutting off, as magic spreads its tendrils from one silver circlet to the other, and the world disappears in the explosion of blue light.

The pain that comes feels like lover’s caress compared to the agony of the spell that brought him through time. But it still hurts, the sheer force of another’s mind entering his own, tearing through his defenses, like a dagger through flesh. He tries to move, but the grip Thor has on him is merciless, and the magic weaving itself around them is strong, too strong for Loki’s weak attempts at fighting against it. He opens his mouth, but it is not a scream but a broken whimper that falls from his lips, as his mind crumbles under the intrusion, memories spilling forth. All of them of Thor.

Of his face, relaxed in sleep, long fingers caressing his cheek gently. The image of him with his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back in ecstasy as Loki kneels before him, hands on his hips, followed quickly by another, this time of him with his eyes wide open, as he gazes down on Loki with love and awe in his eyes as he slid into Loki for the first time…

Image after image slips from Loki’s mind, baring his soul and heart before Thor, and Loki is powerless to stop it, so he surrenders, and if this is how he will lose Thor, then at least let this save Thor’s life. So he allows Thor to see it, his still body, face covered with blood, and Loki on his knees next to it, howling like a wounded animal.

The contact ends abruptly, Thor releasing his wrist as if burned, and when he comes to his senses, he is doubled over, gasping for air, his heart all but trying to beat its way out of his chest. Reluctantly, he sneaks a glance at Thor, his heart tearing at the edges at the look of horror in Thor’s eyes.

Slowly, he straightens, and looks Thor squarely in the eyes. “Do you believe me now?” He whispers, and the voice that comes out of his mouth does not resemble his own. Empty, defeated, lost.

Thor blinks, taking a stumbling step away from Loki, who winces at that. Disgust. It’s not as if Loki could not predict that to be Thor’s reaction, but seeing it tears his heart open, and Loki cannot help but wonder will that wound ever close.

“What… what was _that_?” Thor’s voice comes out shaky, not even a shadow of his usual booming tone, but it is the look in his eyes that wrecks Loki. The look of a small child looking for comfort. Even if it is a false one.

And Loki could weep at the irony of that, but instead he smiles feebly, and does the cruelest thing he has ever done. He tells the truth.

“Those were memories of my past,” he whispers softly, the look on Thor’s face that of a man faced with a death sentence. “And the visions of your future.”

******

Loki waits. He paces back and forth inside his glass cage, with his hands folded behind his back, and waits.

There is nothing else for him to do. The spell is due to end soon, and Loki can already feel the stirrings of his old self, the heat of his rage and pain simmering on the edge of his consciousness. It is a welcome distraction from fighting to keep his thoughts from wandering to Thor. And how he had fled from Loki’s cage yesterday, the look of horror, disbelief and panic etched onto his features.

But if Thor’s violent intrusion in his mind means that they will never become lovers, but Thor will live, somehow, it is worth the price. Even if it the price is Loki’s heart.

Loki is still pacing when Thor comes. Slowly, reluctantly, this time, as if his feet are dragging him to a place he never wanted to visit.

Loki stops pacing, his eyes following Thor’s every move, until he stops bare inches from the glass that separates him from Loki. He looks like he hadn’t slept in ages, his knuckles white from how tightly Thor is clenching his hands into fists, but his eyes are strangely devoid of disgust. There is uncertainty there, and no small amount of fear and disbelief, but not a trace of horrified disgust of yesterday, and that is enough for Loki’s foolish heart to clench in faint hope.

“You heeded my warning,” Loki says, and it is such a relief to be able to offer an honest smile to Thor, and for Thor not to take it as an insult and provocation.

The corner of Thor’s mouth twitches. “I have no wish to die in such inglorious manner,” he says, and every word comes out slowly, like Thor is stepping on thin ice, and he cannot be sure when will it crack. Shaking his head in something that resembles awe, Thor adds softly. “You saved my life, Loki.”

Loki bites back the words that try to spill forth. His lack of disgust notwithstanding, Thor is not ready to hear declarations of love from Loki. So he opts for another truth, no less important. “I was returning but one of many times you have done the same for me, Thor.”

The smile that lights up Thor face is earnest, even if somewhat hesitant, an echo of the bond they shared before an ill-fated journey to Jotunheim changed them both. But it fades quickly, Thor’s face growing serious. “Loki, what I have done…”

“Nothing that was not well deserved,” Loki cuts him off. “We are enemies here and now. And I have given you no cause to trust my words.”

Thor shuts his eyes for a moment, a sad, melancholy smile curving his lips. “Brothers, enemies… _lovers_ ,” he adds the last word, fixing Loki with an almost pained look. It makes Loki swallow, his throat suddenly dry. “How does it all come to pass with us? Why? Are we cursed? Blessed? What are we, Loki? Tell me, brother, because you were always the one who held the answers.”

Loki tries to form a smile, but it comes strained. “I have no answers that could satisfy you, Thor, but I can offer you this knowledge. The future is not set, what you saw can still change.”

Thor blinks, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You think I will change it now that I know,” Thor states, voice blank.

Loki half-shrugs, and the effort of keeping the smile on his face makes him clench his hands into fists. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

Thor merely looks at him, searching Loki’s face for a proof of something. Loki stands still, his heart thumping wildly against his chest, but he allows the love he feels to reflect in his gaze. Let it be Thor’s decision, like it had been the first time around, Loki merely following as always, but he will not hide it. Now there is no reason to do so.

“I have always loved you, Loki, but never…” Thor trails of, clearly uncomfortable. He is struggling against the knowledge, and Loki feels sympathy for him. He is dealing with the revelation it took him centuries the first time, in the span of one day. “You were _my younger brother_.”

Loki takes pity on him. “Nothing had been easy and simple with us, Thor. We have loved and fought each other for centuries. The only thing we have never managed is indifference. Brother.” Loki says softly, and Thor somehow manages to look both in pain and happy at Loki’s use of the last word. Something shifts inside him, as the first twinges of pain start to blossom inside him.

“Loki?” Thor asks, a worried frown appearing on his face.

Loki tries to smile but it comes out pained. “My time here is at its end… the other Loki will regain the control of this body soon,” his words dissolve into a pained gasp, his vision blacking momentarily. He cannot be sure, but he thinks he hears a loud thump, followed by a panicked cry of his name. When his vision clears, his gaze lands on Thor’s panic stricken face, his hand splayed against the glass of his cage. Right over a small crack. Loki snorts at that. “Fury will not like you destroying his toys, Thor.”

Thor ignores his words completely, and it is amazing how easily Thor has fallen back into the role of concerned older sibling. It would warm his heart immensely, if not for the ache inside him. “Are you well, Loki?”

The pain intensifies, and Loki has to grit his teeth to stop himself from releasing a pained groan. It will not be long now. “Thor, the other Loki, he… he is not overly fond of you. And he has his magic. Be careful,” Loki says, his words coming out in short gasps.

“Are you warning me about yourself?”

Loki would like to roll his eyes, but the impulse gets lost when the pull of magic becomes almost unbearable. “Do not… I am serious, he will try to hurt you.”

Thor merely smiles at him. “He is you.” Thor says it, like it is some great revelation, his eyes burning with so many emotions it is like trying to look directly at the sun. Mesmerizing and dangerous.

“Not yet,” Loki gasps out in warning, already slipping further away, his other self getting stronger and stronger. “I am just a possibility, and the decision is entirely yours.”

The next wave of pain has Loki down on his knees, his vision blurring, but he can still make out the smile on Thor’s face. “I _will_ see _you_ again,” Thor says solemnly, and to Loki it sounds like a vow.

And then, with one last stab of pain, the world shifts, and Loki is gone.

******

When he regains consciousness, Loki is back in Asgard. He blinks away the blurriness from his vision, groaning I pain as he tries to stand up, but he is stopped by the gentle, but firm grip of strong hands on his waist.

“Lie still, you have only regained consciousness.”

Loki freezes. He knows that voice, he knows this room. Knows the bed he is in. Carefully, he turns, his heart starting to beat faster. “Thor?” He asks, his voice coming out unsure, his heart barely daring to hope. “You are here.”

Thor merely smiles, pulling Loki tighter and closer, tucking his head in the crook of his neck. “I have made you a promise, a long time ago, have I not?” He says in the same tone Loki remembers from only moments ago. Shutting his eyes, and settling more comfortable in Thor’s embrace, Loki does what he’s almost forgotten how to do in the dark days after Thor’s death. He laughs. And the fates smile back.


End file.
